


Thick as Thieves

by Thanatopsiturvy



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Anal Sex, Another Broody Dunmer, Bosmer Have Pointy Teeth Fight Me, Elder Scrolls Online: Elsweyr, Fraught Blow Jobs, I'm Going to Compare Sildras to Geralt Before Any of You Can, M/M, One-Shot, PWP (kind of), Send-Off Sex, so there, weirdly angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/pseuds/Thanatopsiturvy
Summary: Sildras enjoys one last night in The Stitches - Vole offers to give him a proper send-off.
Relationships: Vole (Elder Scrolls)/Original Dunmer Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	Thick as Thieves

**Author's Note:**

> Dipping my toes into dat sweet, sweet ESO fanfic with my sparkly new OC, Sildras! A broody Dunmer with a lot to hide. Apparently.... 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy some shameless smut! There will probably be more of him as I cross more fuckable NPCs in ESO.
> 
> (Sorry for any typos or errors - this boi is one of the first in a while that hasn't been beta read!)

The night was warm, humid, the air sweetened with sheesha and spice. Torchbugs illuminated the canyons below the Stitches, blinking sluggishly, mirroring the starlight above. Lamps burned lowly in the huts that peppered the hillsides as residents slowly made their way across the rickety bridges, turning in for the night. 

Sildras leaned against the balcony just outside of Goiter’s Gulp, a mug of sickly sweet ale in one hand, Nazdar’s discordant lute playing to his back. He sighed, taking a pull and scrunching up his face at the taste. Everything in Elsweyr was too sweet.

“What’s wrong, don’t like your drink?” Vole had stepped up beside him with a lopsided smirk. “Don’t worry. Sereyne will guzzle it down fo you if you can’t.” Sildras leaned back to look around him, spotting the Alfiq stretched out across one of the long benches, eyepatch slightly askew, lapping at a bowl of… something alcoholic. 

“She refuses to let anybody leave a drink unfinished,” Vole continued when Sildras remained silent. “Calls it ‘alcohol abuse’ otherwise. I told her she ought to know.” Vole laughed into his own flagon before taking a sip. Sildras just chuckled lowly, looking back out across the canyon. 

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Vole was looking at him expectantly, head cocked to the side. 

Sildras shrugged. “Not much to say.” 

“Everyone has a story.” 

“Didn’t say otherwise…” 

“So what’s yours, then?” Vole nudged his shoulder with his flagon, turning to face the railing, mimicking Sildras’s pose. “All kinds of people come through the Stitches, but few of them ever stick their neck out for people they barely know. Why’d you wanna help Tasnasi? Why help me, or Sereyne?” He wrinkled his nose. “And why in the name of Y’ffre did you go and get Nazdar his lute back?” Vole stuck a pinky in his ear, twisting it with a grimace as Nazdar struck a particularly dissonant chord. The old Khajiit had a blissful expression on his face. Sildras couldn’t help but smile. 

“I try to trust my instincts when I can.” He took another sip of his drink, scraping his tongue across his teeth with a scowl before shaking his head and setting the flagon down. “Honestly, I just needed money. But Tasnasi was hiding something. I could tell from the start.” He shrugged again, leaning into the balcony a little more. A torchbug drifted past his head and he watched it go. 

“But you helped her anyway.” Vole shook his head with a smirk. “Then you broke into Jubani’s to help me.” 

“I got a bounty for that.”  
“That’s my point!” Vole gestured enthusiastically, a bit of his drink sloshing out the side of his flagon. “Who,” he poked Sildras’s shoulder with a thin, grease-stained finger, “ _are_ you?” 

Sildras pushed away from the railing, taking a step backwards towards Goiter’s lounge. “I’m nobody. And I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” 

Vole scowled at him, working his jaw back and forth. “I have a bottle of sujamma in my hut,” he blurted. Sildras stopped, turning to give him a thoughtful look. Vole shrugged, jutting out his lower lip and putting on an air of disinterest. “If you’d like a drink of something a little less sweet. A little stronger. Something closer to home.” He quirked a brow. “A bit of a better sendoff, that is.” 

Sildras knew a proposition when he heard one. 

\----

Vole’s place was two bridges away from Goiter’s, just one down from Jubani’s Junkshop, and nestled into a little crevice in the plateau. It had a small, slanted porch with a worn hammock stretched between the posts, a Dwemer lanter flickering with pale blue light next to the brightly colored woven curtain that served as a front door. 

Inside it was small, and almost too warm. Vole’s days as a scout for the Dominion were apparent in his collection of nicknacks. Most of them were Dwemer in origin. He had shelves upon shelves stacked with heavy metal contraptions and whirligigs that caused the wooden planks to bow in the center. There wasn’t much formal furniture to speak of, but every single surface was covered with bits and pieces of machinery - cogs and bolts, springs and soul gems. A bowl of broken gem shards sat amidst some of the clutter and Sildras couldn’t help but run his fingers through them, watching how they glistened in the low lamplight. 

“Snacks?” he asked with a smirk. 

“Oh, so you do have a sense of humor?” Vole had already kicked off his shoes, hastily clearing a spot on the floor: shuffling papers, fluffing up some brightly colored pillows, smoothing down the carpet. “I was starting to wonder…” 

Sildras picked up a cog, hefting its weight between his palms. “Wonder what?” 

“If what they say about Dunmer is true.” Vole got to his feet, trotting over to an old trunk and shoving a pile of books atop it onto the ground. “That you’re all incapable of laughing.” He knelt and began to fiddle with an unusual looking lock. 

Sildras couldn’t help but chuckle. “Not all…” 

“Aha!” Vole peered over his shoulder, cracking a grin and shaking a rather dusty-looking bottle of sujama. The liquid inside sloshed loudly. “What’d I say?” 

“But is it drinkable?”

“Oi, don’t be ungrateful.” He pushed to standing, walking towards Sildras with a swagger. “It’s bound to be better than that plum brandy from earlier.” 

“Is _that_ what that was?” 

Vole just snorted in amusement. 

They reclined on the floor pillows, passing the bottle back and forth. Despite whatever Vole’s intentions were, he ended up doing a lot of talking, predominantly about his most recent acquisition: some old Dwemer machine he was trying to fix. 

“I have to make my way to either Skyrim or Morrowind to get the really good parts,” he explained. He took a long pull from the bottle before handing it back to Sildras, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm. “The traders down here will charge an arm and a leg for a single dynamo core, whereas I can just find them lying about up there.” He pounded his fist against his chest, letting out a small burp. “Although, tangling with a Sphere might _literally_ cost you an arm and a leg. But it’s all worth it. To me at least.”  
“A dangerous hobby.” 

“Oh it’s well beyond a hobby at this point. It’s a passion, really. A way of life.”  
“An obsession?” Sildras raised a brow. Vole just winked. He’d long removed his jeweler's monocle, and his dark eyes glittered with mischief as Sildras handed the bottle back.

“Sorry. I always end up going off like this…” He chuckled, licking his lips before taking another drink. “I didn’t invite you over to be a captive audience to my various ramblings.” 

“Then why did you invite me over?” Sildras knew why. He just enjoyed this part of the game. 

Vole stretched his legs out, propping his chin in his hand. “Why d’you think?”

“Hmm…” Sildras pushed a bit his hair over his shoulder. “To seduce me, I assumed.” 

“Yeah?” Vole corked the bottle, twisting his torso and sliding onto to his hands and knees, his movements almost animal, predatory, as he crawled across the floor. “Is it working?” 

Sildras tilted his chin up, shifted until his back was against the pillows as Vole moved to hover overtop him. “Well enough.”

Vole’s idea of kissing was more like _biting._ He immediately straddled Sildras’s hips, grabbing fistfulls of his hair, forcefully guiding his head into the angles he wanted. Sildras was simply along for the ride. It had been a while since he’d gotten this much attention. He smoothed his hands along Vole’s sides, slid them beneath his worn, tattered shirt, trying to keep his movements slow, steady, calming. Every muscle in Vole’s back felt tense, tightly bunched beneath Sildras’s fingers, as if he’d been holding back for hours. 

“Y’know…” Vole had broken the kiss only to wrench Sildras’s head to the right, mouthing and nipping his way along the column of his neck. “When you first took off your helmet I almost swallowed my fucking tongue.” 

Sildras groaned at the sharp rake of teeth across his pulse point. “Really.” 

“Hiding that gorgeous face of yours.” He reared back, pulling impatiently at the ties of Sildras’s shirt. “Should be a criminal offense.”

“Please,” Sildras chuckled, arching his back and letting Vole pull his shirt up and over his head. “I can’t afford any more bounties.” 

“Fuck…” Vole’s eyes were obsidian black as he raked his gaze across Sildras’s torso, hands following. He thumbed a nipple before pinching, and Sildras hissed like a snake, arching up into the touch with a groan. Vole ducked down, circling his tongue around the abused nipple before kissing his way to the other. Sildras just let his head fall back against the pillows, his hands still smoothing across Vole’s back. 

It was frenzied and sloppy, and Sildras wanted to tell Vole to slow down, but he knew why he wouldn’t. The Bosmer pulled his own clothes off as if they were burning him, impatiently tugging at the bottom of Sildras’s pants when he was taking too long to get them off. He gave a quick, nerve-wracking blowjob that had Sildras flinching every time he felt sharp teeth scrape the base of his cock. Vole was small with his clothes on, but without them he was a lean, leggy thing, all knees and elbows and taut muscles rippling beneath warm brown skin. 

His back gleamed with sweat as he positioned himself on his hands and knees, reaching between his legs to guide the head of Sildras’s now oil-slicked cock into him. 

“Easy,” Sildras soothed, rubbing small circles against Vole’s back. “Slow down for this.” 

“It’s fine,” Vole insisted with a grunt, rocking back a little before pulling off with a curse, then pushing back again. Sildras watched the head of his cock slowly disappear into Vole’s ass and let out a long exhale. He never considered himself to be particularly large, but everything about Vole made him feel enormous. 

“I want to take it.” Vole’s cheek was pressed against the carpet, one slick hand still guiding Sildras’s dick, the other fisting a nearby pillow. “ _Gods_ you’re big.”  
Sildras didn’t comment. 

Finally, something gave, and it was almost like Vole was pulling him in. Sildras sucked in a breath, fingers tightening around those slender hips as Vole whimpered, almost sounding surprised, before he groaned, deep and satisfied.

“Fuck…” Vole’s sides heaved as he adjusted, caught his breath, and Sildras felt him clench, hot and tight. “Just, don’t move yet, yeah?” 

“Whatever you need.” 

Vole pushed up onto his hands, rocking experimentally. He finally seemed to be taking things slow; Sildras was grateful. They added more oil. He wrapped an arm around Vole’s stomach, pressing slow kisses across the back of his shoulder, let the small elf set the pace, rocking back against Sildras’s cock with the tiniest movements. 

“Alright…” Vole grunted as he pushed back a little harder. “Alright, give it a go.” 

Sildras curled his fingers in the crook of Vole’s hips, pulling out halfway before slowly pressing forward. Vole immediately dropped to his forearms again, letting out a long, wanton groan. 

“Gods. Yeah, like that…” 

Vole’s chattiness extended to sex, it seemed. He spewed an endless litany of encouragements, confessions, and obscenities. Sildras just closed his eyes, breathed through his nose, and set a steady rhythm. He was dangerously close… had been for a minute. Between Vole squirming beneath his hands, tight around his cock, and whimpering like a seasoned whore, Sildras was feeling a bit overwhelmed. Without warning, Vole bucked back, and Sildras saw stars, biting down on his tongue and doubling over. He curled his hips weakly, supporting himself with one arm as he held onto Vole with the other, riding out his orgasm, teeth sinking into the smaller elf’s shoulder. He could feel Vole’s back muscles flexing wildly as he stroked himself, felt him clench down hard, coming with a shudder and a shout. 

Sildras righted himself, head spinning as he ran a hand along Vole’s sweat-damp back, before he slowly pulled out and fell to the side with an _oomph_. He rolled onto his back, trying to catch his breath. It was too fucking hot in the damn hut. Vole was still on his hands and knees just grinning at Sildras, looking feral and pleased. He shuffled over to place a kiss on Sildras’s slackened mouth before pushing to his feet, shuffling about in the periphery before returning with an abrasive rag. Sildras cleaned himself up sluggishly, his vision a bit blurry around the edges. 

“You doing alright in there, mate?” Vole’s warm hand was on his forehead, pushing hair away from his face. 

“Mhmm…” Sildras didn’t have it in him to form words just yet. The world felt softer, the pillows fluffier, the floor surprisingly more comfortable. Vole just chuckled, snuggling up against him and intertwining their legs. 

“I usually sleep out on the balcony. In the hammock.” He traced nonsensical patterns on Sildras’s chest, pulling absently at the sparse white hairs that dappled its center. “Maybe it’s the wood elf in me, but I just can’t help but feel more comfortable when I’m outside. Where I can see the stars and the moons.”

Sildras trailed his fingertips between Vole’s shoulder blades, tracing the ridges of his spine and making a noise of agreement. 

“So I don’t really have a bed in here to speak of. But, I have some spare blankets. We can make something up. It’s been a minute since I’ve had a bed partner--” 

Sildras rolled onto his side, gripping Vole’s jaw and bringing their mouths together. Vole exhaled through his nose, leaning in right as Sildras pulled away. “You talk a lot.”

This earned him a surprised little chuckle. “Yeah?” Vole bared his teeth to form something akin to a smile. “Oh, dark and mysterious one. Man of few words. Compared to you, _everyone_ talks a lot.” 

Sildras just smirked before falling into another kiss. 

Vole had found a few rattey blankets to pad the small nest they’d made, but overall the little shack was too warm to really need them. Sildras woke up sweating and with a crick in his neck. The early light of dawn was just beginning to seep through the cracks of the wooden walls, the echo of roosters calling in the distance. Vole slept soundly beside him, curled into the crook of his arm, one hand thrown across Sildras’s chest. Carefully, he pulled away from the little Bosmer’s grip, getting to his feet and beginning to don his clothes. He moved as quietly as possible, stepping lightly around creaking floorboards and tripping hazards. 

“I hope you weren’t planning on sneaking away without saying goodbye.” 

Sildras finished buckling his belt and turned to see Vole smirking up at him, his hair ruffled and cowlicked from sleep. There was a coy smirk on his lips, but Sildras could see the hurt behind his expression. 

“I was going to say goodbye,” he assured. “I just need to be on my way--”

“You could stay here, you know. You have a place here.” Vole didn’t move from his spot, just continued to stare up at him with those dark, imploring eyes, all humor gone from his expression. Half-covered by thin blankets, all lean muscle and tawny brown skin, he looked utterly debauched and incredibly tempting. Yes, Sildras wanted to stay. He really did. 

“I can’t.” 

Vole sighed, looking away then. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, along his jaw, stubble scraping like sandpaper beneath his calloused fingers. He sniffed loudly before flashing a sharp grin, sliding back into his carefree demeanor. “Well it was a good night, then. Thanks for that.” 

Sildras oscillated then, one foot pointed towards the door. Vole was starting to sit up, blanket pooling around his waist, stretching his arms up over his head with a yawn. In one swift movement, Sildras knelt beside him, pushing him to lie back down, capturing his mouth for one last hungry kiss. Vole smiled against his lips, threading his fingers through Sildras’s hair, making a pleased little noise. He was warm and pliant under Sildras’s hands, and, Azura help him, Sildras wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the nest of pillows and blankets and forget the outside world. Forget the innumerable tasks he had set before him. 

But he pulled away, running his hand over Vole’s disheveled crest of hair, attempting to smooth it. Fondness swelled behind his breastbone and he knew his he didn’t leave immediately, then he might actually give in. 

“Don’t be a stranger, eh Sil?” Vole traced the ridge of Sildras’s cheekbone. Sildras just nodded, dipping down for one final quick kiss before pushing to his feet. He didn’t look back as he left. He couldn’t. 

His horse, Arch, was waiting for him. He’d left him tethered outside of Jubani’s Junkshop, having paid the massive Senche-raht who slept nearby a reasonable sum to make sure he was safe through the night. She nodded her large head to Sildras as he passed, her tail swishing through the dirt. Arch nickered as he approached, snorting anxiously as Sildras secured his tack and swung up into the saddle. The sun rose steadily over the eastern plateaus as they climbed the last hill out of the Stitches. Sildras dug his heels into Arch’s sides and he broke into a gallop, kicking up dust and sand as they tore across the plane. Only after he’d put miles between himself and the warm hut, the soft pillows, and those dark eyes, Sildras allowed himself to glance over his shoulder. 


End file.
